


All Through the Night

by saisei



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Cat/Human Hybrids, M/M, Post 1000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 05:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17135858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisei/pseuds/saisei
Summary: Prompto and Ignis clear up a mutual misunderstanding after an incident at a party.





	All Through the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Began as two drabbles posted here: https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/345862.html?thread=2002856710#cmt2002856710 and the story was continued here: https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/344797.html?thread=2003773661#cmt2003773661
> 
> Title from Cyndi Lauper's All Through the Night (https://youtu.be/1pQxpaDg0V8).

Prompto never saw Ignis drunk before, and he'd take pictures if he wasn't terrified of being clawed to death. He always thought Ignis' gloves hid declawing scars, but nope. Ignis comes with built-in weapons. He's one of the coolest people Prompto knows, but right now he's swaying, in an argument with Noct that's half terrible fish puns.

"Come on, Specs," Noct says, and gives Ignis' shoulder a terribly-timed push that off-balances him. Prompto reflexively reaches up from where he's sitting on the sofa and ends up with an armful, then a lapful of lethal advisor.

"Hi," he squeaks, breathlessly. 

*

Ignis' ear twitches. Looking down, Ignis says slowly, "Why are you sitting on my tail?"

"You're sitting on your own tail, dude," Prompto points out.

Ignis frowns as if this can't possibly be right, but then braces his hands on Prompto's shoulders and raises up so his tail lashes free. After settling back down, he slides his arms around Prompto, cuddling him like a kid with a plushie. Prompto reacts instinctively, scritching Ignis behind the ear while stroking his back. Across the room, Gladio looks alarmed, like he's about to witness an evisceration; but Prompto can feel the deep rumble of Ignis, purring contentedly.

*

Ignis avoids Prompto in the days after the party, and is frosty when they have to interact. Prompto ignores it until one day he can't any more.

He follows Ignis when he leaves Noct's place and corners him in front of the elevators. "Do you hate me because I'm adopted?"

Ignis blinks, and adjusts his glasses to avoid looking directly at Prompto. "No."

"Is it because my parents are just regular people and not rich or famous?"

Ignis huffs. "No. I don't hate you."

"Are you avoiding me because I'm gay?" Prompto goes on. He has a long list, and he plans on following Ignis until he gets answers.

That earns him a flick of Ignis' ears in genuine surprise. "I was unaware – "

"Bi, actually," Prompto says, and shrugs. He holds up his wrist. As far as he's aware, Ignis doesn't know, but government surveillance and all that. "Is it this?"

"What?" Ignis says, eyes flicking from wristband to Prompto's face, as if trying to solve a puzzle. The elevator arrives, and Prompto follows him in. After a moment, he sighs. "Please believe me when I say that I truly hold nothing against you."

"I'll believe you when you're not lying to my face, sure," Prompto says easily. He leans against the wall and waits. Ignis stands with his arms crossed and watches the numbers on the display drop until they reach B2 and the doors open. Prompto follows him out, through the security doors and into the parking lot, right to the door of his car.

In the terrible lighting, Ignis looks tired and kind of defeated, and Prompto starts to feel bad for him. He supposes everyone's allowed likes and dislikes. Noct hates carrots; Ignis hates him. Prompto's not that fond of big hairy spiders. Insert "it takes all kinds to make a world" or some other tired cliché here.

"I'll drive you home," Ignis offers after a moment, his shoulders slumping. Prompto's all set to refuse – he has his pride – when Ignis adds, "I do owe you an explanation, I suppose." He sounds annoyed by this. Fine, whatever.

Prompto gets into the passenger seat and tries to relax. He sends Noct a quick text to let him know what's up, and then studies Ignis' car with curiosity. It smells like leather and stupid amounts of money; the dashboard is sleek in a way that reminds Prompto of cameras he's coveted, elegant precision instruments. Noct and Ignis and Gladio live in a weird bubble of being so rich that they honestly have no idea how alien their normal is. It weirds Prompto out sometimes.

Ignis strips off his gloves, turns on the ignition, and adjusts the rear view mirror minutely with one finger and a claw. Which is unusual for him; he doesn't (can't) hide what he is, but he never _flaunts_ his cat-ness. He makes it seem boring and harmless, and probably that's useful, Prompt supposes. Gladio's an obvious bodyguard, but the gangly guy hiding eyes with too much iris behind his glasses is easy to overlook as too harmless to be any threat at all.

Ignis turns on the music player, setting the volume and choosing a track of quiet piano music with practiced flicks of claws against plastic. Looking closely, Prompto can see that the controls are kind of scratched up. He bets Ignis hates that, and he wonders why he doesn't just... stick to pretending to be human like he does all day long anyway, and use his fingers.

He starts to wonder just how hard Ignis works to suppress what comes naturally to him, and how frustrated he gets. Whether there's any place or time when Ignis is allowed to let his hair down and his ears show.

Ignis doesn't say anything until they're on Central heading east, but what he starts with is, "I'm ashamed of my behavior at Noct's party. I'm... embarrassed that you saw me like that."

"Dude!" Prompto blurts out, twisting sideways in his seat so he can see Ignis full-on. "No!" Ignis' mouth is set, a flat line of firm disappointment – with himself, which is a hundred kinds of wrong. Ignis is _made_ out of confidence and self-esteem. "Look – you want to know how _I_ felt?"

Ignis winces. "Not especially."

"Trusted," Prompto goes on, because fuck Ignis if he thinks that hearing him purr once means that now he just sees him as, as porn or a pet or whatever. "Like you were demonstrating that you trust me. Of course not as much as you do Noct or Gladio, I'm the new guy, I get it, but there's always been this wall, with me on the outside. So it was one night when I thought, oh cool, I belong."

Ignis is paying attention to the road, the traffic signals and the turns, but his wince morphs into more of a grimace and he bites his bottom lip hard as he steals a glance at Prompto, who shrugs.

"And then I didn't talk to you for a week," Ignis says in self-recrimination.

"We've all done things we regret after a few drinks." Or so Prompto pretends; alcohol's never affected him, which he finds terrifying. "Odds always were that sober-you wasn't into – well. I have a list of pretty good reasons. You only heard the top five."

"It's precisely because I don't dislike you that I mind having behaved like that toward you," Ignis says. He's speaking very slowly, trying to keep his voice unemotional, like the narrator of a nature documentary or something. "Egotistical as it is, I enjoy being admired for my accomplishments and abilities. Not for the accident of my birth."

"Word," Prompto says with feeling. "See? We have a lot in common!"

Ignis very deliberately unsheathes his claws and taps them on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, yeah, all the other kids get the cool hybrid mutations, trust me, it's the greatest disappointment of my parents' lives. What's even the point in taking in a lab rescue if there aren't claws or wings or nictitating membranes involved?"

Ignis' eyes flick to Prompto's wristband – of course he puts two and two together, he's clever like that – before snapping back to the road. He retracts his claws with a smooth flick. Very impressive.

"One hundred percent human for all intents and purposes," Prompto goes on, trying to sound chipper and not like he wants to throw up. "Until you look at my DNA, but who's going to do that?" Only every person who might want to have kids with him, but right now all that's not remotely a possibility. "Wings would have been so cool."

"Doubtful," Ignis says. "If one could fly, I suppose that'd be exhilarating, but imagine the _looks_."

"I guess you get those, huh." Prompto sighs. He hopes Ignis hasn't been offended by the way Prompto moons over him – it's not a case of exoticizing his cat hybrid-ness, he's just in awe of Ignis in general, his style and his ridiculous jokes and his kindness. The gorgeous green eyes and tufts of dark brown at the tips of his ears are a bonus. "So are things going to be weird between us now?"

"Can you still think of me the way you did before I... curled up on you like a housecat?"

"Do you think of Gladio barfing every time you see him, or is being a PSA for why alcohol and Cup Noodles don't mix just another part of his Gladio-ness for you?"

"I've seen that before," Ignis says, voice hinting at dark, worse things. Prompto moans _noooo_ under his breath, and Ignis nods solemnly. "He doesn't ever learn." 

"I don't want your takeaway from this to be _maintain a front for Prompto_ ," Prompto blurts out. "Also, you're terrifying, so more like a coerl." He pauses. "Is that super rude?"

"I appreciate the awareness that saying _pretty kitty_ or leaving out bowls of milk will be met with mutilation." Ignis sounds grimly upbeat about this, as if it would be his sincere pleasure.

"Must have been hard teaching Noct that," Prompto says without thinking, and then claps a hand over his mouth. "Nevermind," he squeaks into his palm. "O-nay eresay-hay ere-hay."

"Sadly, the rules of the road forbid passenger dismemberment whilst the vehicle is in motion." Ignis sighs. "Noct had a learning curve, shall we say, but we were both children and sheltered, which was in retrospect a good thing. We were friends long before we were fully aware of what, exactly, being a prince meant, and what the world thought about hybrids."

Prompto's glad he preemtively gagged himself, because he nearly blurts out that it's lucky Ignis never had normalizing surgery. He remembers the girl at his elementary school who had her rabbit ears removed, and how she'd been teased just as much after as before. And as skeevy as he knows it is, Prompto's watched and gotten off to hybrid porn, always with that frisson of guilt and terror of wondering what exactly _he_ is made of. Cat person porn has two main genres: declawed – safe, but clumsy from surgical damage – or clawed, with performers treated like dangerous animals. He knows that clawed feet don't work well with shoes, especially the kind Ignis prefers, fancy and imported from Accordo, narrow, leather studded with rhinestones, probably with a pricetag close to Prompto's parents' monthly mortgage payment.

Not that there's anything wrong with having expensive taste if you can afford it. And not that there's anything wrong with Ignis, apparently, seeing as Prompto has trained and sparred with him. He can run and do acrobatics, so he's probably fine, if surgically altered.

Prompto wonders if that was a condition of working for the Crown, or for going to school, or what. He doesn't dare ask, though. Instead he bites the center of his palm, hard enough to make his thoughts stop spinning, and then drops his hand, wiping it off on his jeans.

Ignis is just making the turn down from the main road into his neighborhood, and Prompto has no idea why he knows where he lives. Noct has never even visited (he'd asked, once, but Prompto told him honestly that his house was boring, without even a game console or cable TV, and they'd ended up in the arcade again). But Ignis knows which corners to slow down for, and to go right instead of left at the tobacco shop, and that Prompto's house is the fourth down on the left.

It's creepy, but in a good way. Prompto almost wishes they could just keep driving, and he could keep basking in Ignis' attention, now that they seem to be friends again. But that would be selfish, and he's sure Ignis has more important things to do, plus he probably has early-morning meetings. Still, Prompto puts his hand on the door handle and pauses. "Do you want to come in? For a nightcap, which no, you're driving, but there's instant coffee and maybe some ice cream and my parents won't be home until next week, which. You know. Empty nest?" His cheeks feel like they're on fire from that incoherent wreck of an attempt at suavity. "Never mind."

But Ignis is reversing the car and then slotting it into the carport with race-driver precision, probably the most expensive vehicle that's ever been here. Certainly no match for his mom's tiny baby-blue hatchback.

Prompto is very proud of himself for not slamming his hand in the door as he clambers out, not falling on the front steps, not dropping his keys, or anything else that might scare Ignis away. In his head he's chanting _friends, friends, friends, just friends, he doesn't hate me, which is good and very friendly_ like a maniac kindergarten teacher, but his heart's going crazy with hope.

"May I kiss you?" Ignis asks, as soon as they're inside, shoes off and slippers on. He doesn't look nervous, just gorgeous, and it takes a moment for Prompto to say _Yes, of course_ because he cannot believe his amazing luck.

The best way to deal with nerves is to push right on through, so Prompto reaches up and slides his hand to the back of Ignis' neck, for balance. He pushes up on his toes and Ignis kisses back as soon as their lips meet. Sparks and fireworks, bam, just like in the movies, and Prompto presses into Ignis like kissing's a full-contact sport. Ignis is on the same page, though – a very handsy page, tousling Prompto's hair and then grabbing a handful to tip his head to the side, while his free hand slides all the way down to tuck proprietorially into the back pocket of Prompto's jeans. Literally, cupping his ass, and Prompto's mind goes blank as his mouth is plundered like in one of Gladio's sexy pirate books.

Ignis' canines are sharp but it's a good sting as he nips at Prompto's lower lip, and his tongue is rough – not harsh, but sexy in a way that makes Prompto want to be licked all over, especially his dick. Ignis' glasses have steamed up, like a symbol of how his thoughts are (hopefully) getting pornographic; his pupils are so wide his eyes are almost all black. 

Prompto thinks this is a good time to ask whether Ignis would like some bad instant coffee now, or if he'd like to take things upstairs.

He's very, very glad that his room's not messy, even if Ignis is more interested in tugging his shirt loose and over his head than looking around. Prompto thinks there's a good momentum, here, so he starts unbuttoning Ignis' shirt as well. He's done his research, so he isn't freaked that Ignis has eight nipples, but he does need to shove him back on the bed and lick all of them. Ignis is ticklish, and annoyed at not having the upper hand, until suddenly he isn't, arching up against Prompto's mouth like he wants to be bitten. And hey, Prompto is totally up for that.

While Prompto's occupied, Ignis has somehow loosened his belt and undone his trousers, and he politely refrains from laughing as Prompto hops up to kick them off with a complete lack of grace, followed by his socks and underwear. And then it's Ignis' turn to get naked, and everything's very, very fine until suddenly it isn't, Prompto's wrist caught tight in a tight grip, with claw-tips pressing against the skin.

"Sorry," Ignis says immediately, yanking his hand back. He looks mortified. "Are you bleeding?"

"Nope," Prompto answers, trying to sound chipper even though his heart's banging against his ribs for the wrong reason this time. "Are you freaking out?"

Ignis shakes his head, but Prompto doesn't buy it. He shifts back up and runs his hands through Ignis' hair, kissing his nose and his cheeks and his forehead and chin, all over, until Ignis catches him by the scruff of his neck and pulls him in for a slow wet kiss.

"May I confess something?" Ignis says, when Prompto takes a break to breathe.

Prompto leans his head against Ignis' shoulder. Lickable, he thinks, dazedly. "Sure." He slides his tongue along a collar bone just because he can.

"I've only slept with hybrids," Ignis says, as if he's admitting to a weakness.

"Okay," Prompto says agreeably. Ignis is messing with his hair, it's not like Prompto's about to get up and storm out. He has never felt less like storming away in his life. "How is that different from this?"

Ignis makes this very adorable noise of irritation, almost the same one he gives Noct every time he sneaks the salad off his plate and onto Ignis'. "There's more communication," he says slowly, and Prompto pays attention because he thinks that means it's crucial. "Having the will to engage in relations isn't necessarily enough to make it happen without a certain amount of creativity and effort." Like he's sure this is a dealbreaker, he says, "I can't penetrate you without causing pain."

"Okay," Prompto repeats. He doesn't want to bring up his self-education via porn, but still... "I am completely down with making an effort," he adds. "And with communicating, though don't laugh too hard when I embarrass myself. What do you want to do?" He slips a finger into one of Ignis' belt loops and gives a playful tug. "I think you should lose these, and we'll work on genital compatibility from there."

"Smooth," Ignis says, voice flat. Prompto has _never_ confronted such sarcasm while separating a handsome man from his shorts and trousers before; except he's not entirely sure Ignis isn't make a dick-related pun. Ignis has reason to be prickly about his prick, Prompto thinks giddily as everything's laid bare for a moment before Ignis curls his hand around himself, less like the sight of Prompto's endless freckles makes him want to jerk off and more like he's hiding. His tail has ended up mostly under his leg, but the tip is lashing in that classic _do not touch_ signal.

"Can I blow you?" Prompto asks anyway, because Ignis is a grown up who'll use his words instead of trying to rip his head off, probably. Ignis' hand jerks, the head of his cock poking out for a moment before being hidden away again. Prompto teases the lower set of nipples, rolling them between his fingers; he's been allowed to touch Ignis there, and he wants to suggest that he's fine going even lower. Plus, Ignis' stomach tightens in a very eye-pleasing way, sending an unexpected wave of fierce possessiveness sweeping through Prompto. Ignis is _his_ gorgeous naked man, and he kind of wants to write _mine_ all over him in permanent marker. 

"I can't imagine it'd be pleasant," Ignis says.

Prompto shrugs; now is not the time to bring up the fact that Bad Behemoth has built an entire sex-toy empire based on hybrid and fantasy dildos. "Do you trust me to stop if it isn't, so we can find a plan B?" Ignis seems to be weak to nipple persuasion. His back curls, and he sighs and moves his hand down to his hip, his tail curling in a way more invitational than threatening. Prompto shifts down before he can change his mind. The spines aren't sharp enough to break skin, and they're arranged in six neat rings around Ignis' tapered dick (the condom ad about being _ribbed for pleasure_ rattles around in Prompto's head). They do point downward, and Prompto imagines that bareback sex would be painful-slash-impossible, but whatever. The internet is for porn, and Moogle search must have creative solutions for nearly every compatibility problem.

"I can't deep throat," Prompto says, after taking a few exploratory licks and deciding that _hell yeah_ he's going for it. "I've literally barfed on two guys who thought I was kidding, so... not kidding. FYI."

The noise Ignis makes comes from low in his chest, so Prompto feels the vibration of the involuntary growl as much as he hears it. A second later Ignis says – very sheepish for a cat – "I'll buy you new sheets. Yours might be damaged."

"You're so _sweet_ ," Prompto says. He doesn't need defending, not now, but he likes Ignis getting indignant on his behalf. He figures that deserves a reward, and he slides his mouth down as far as he can go.

The rhythm isn't that hard to figure out. He can suck hard as he goes down – the spines bumping over his lips are a weird but sexy thrill – and then he makes his mouth all loose and wet on the up strokes. Ignis is scrupulously polite about not trying to fuck his mouth (though Prompto suspects the claws have gone through the sheets and have started in on shredding his mattress), and after a bit he asks Prompto to straddle him like they're going to sixty-nine.

"Can you?" Prompto asks, pulling up and sucking on the head of Ignis' cock like it's candy. "With fangs?"

"Not exactly," Ignis admits, but he still tugs and nudges until Prompto is in place. More or less – like this, the height difference isn't exactly ignorable.

Still, it takes Ignis spreading his ass wide with both hands for Prompto to figure out what the plan is, and he just kind of holds Ignis' cock in his mouth while he pants and maybe drools a little because he's not exactly in control of himself with Ignis setting to work eating him out. He clearly knows how to use his tongue to advantage, and Prompto's shaking head to toe before he he remembers that he's supposed to be driving Ignis just as wild. He ends up scraping his own tongue up, though, because he's paying more attention to what Ignis' is doing.

His balls draw tight, his body locking down on the promise of orgasm, and he barely manages to do the responsible thing and warn Ignis. But Ignis just spreads the fingers that were holding Prompto open and tongue-fucks him over the edge to ecstasy.

Prompto hadn't known that he could come without anyone touching his dick, but he does, and the orgasm is amazing, resounding deep like a temple bell, and Ignis makes it go on so long, milking wave after wave of pleasure from him, that Prompto slumps down boneless, face against Ignis' thigh, panting and whimpering in an attempt to keep from screaming. (He mostly succeeds.)

When it's finally over, he's so limp he slides to the side like very satisfied butter melting on a hot pan. He knows, in a distant way, that he needs to get Ignis off and he's terrible for leaving him hanging, but he's got zero hand-dick coordination whatsoever, just sincere apologies and...

"Jerk yourself off in my mouth," he offers, finding Ignis' leg and tugging at him ineffectually. "Come all over my face. Mess me all the fuck up, come on."

Ignis twists up and around so fast Prompto nearly gets headrush, kneeling over Prompto and stripping his dick fiercely. His hair's sweaty and tousled, and his mouth is open even though he's gritting his teeth, and Prompto is stunned all over again that he ended up in bed with someone so gorgeous.

Every one of Ignis' gorgeous muscles goes rigid as he comes, and he takes Prompto's invitation to heart, getting come _everywhere_ (Prompto closes his eyes not a moment too soon, and after that he thinks he feels it in his hair). He reaches up blindly to guide Ignis down, next to/on top of him, getting his arms around him and stroking broad slow strokes down his sweat-slick back until Ignis' breathing slows to normal and his tail curls possessively around Prompto's leg. 

"That was amazing," he says. "We should do that again."

"Now?" Ignis is too amused to succeed in sounding shocked. He raises his head from Prompto's shoulder and muffles a snort of laughter. "Well. One of us looks like the cat who got the cream, and for a shocking twist in the _tail_ , it's not me." 

He leans up and in the next second Prompto feels a finger swipe across his eyelid, cleaning him up. Prompto grins – it's polite and thoughtful, and at the same time so sensual that he can feel his dick wanting to get hard again. Ignis is thorough, and when he finally reaches Prompto's lips, Prompto catches his fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean as thanks. 

"Stay the night?" Prompto asks. He doesn't seriously think Ignis will – given Ignis' clothes and his car, he bets his house is super-luxurious, and his bed probably isn't ( _had better not be_ ) all scratched up from earth-shaking sex. He can't imagine Ignis sleeping easily under a roof that also shelters crappy instant coffee.

But Ignis hums and says he'd need a shower first, and he'll have to leave early so he can change clothes for work. Neither of those are dealbreakers for Prompto.

"We can shower together to save water," he decides, giddy, before remembering that both of them have their reasons for privacy. His wristband is still on, after all, just like Ignis' socks. Ignis concurs, though, with a nod and an "Excellent plan" as he pulls Prompto briskly out of his disaster-scene of a bed.

They end up fucking again in the shower, even though it means using up a ton of water and Ignis complains about his wet ears (he's adorable when they twitch). Prompto shows him where he's marked _non-human_ on his wrist, and he finds out that Ignis does limp when his toe-brace-things are off, but they don't talk about that. Not when there's come to wash out of his hair and nipples to lather up and teeth to be brushed.

Ignis says he's fine sleeping naked (and Prompto agrees completely: when _isn't_ Ignis fine?) but insists they change the sheets. There's a certain amount of wriggling before they're both comfortable, but Prompto assumes that's normal, even for people who don't have to contend with a tail and a ten centimeter difference in height. He sets his phone alarm for half past five, and closes his eyes. Ignis pets his hair until he drops into sleep and his hand stills, a soothing, reassuring weight.

Happiness keeps Prompto wide awake, full of sense-memories and ideas for dates and thoughts about Ignis' eyes and smile and terrible jokes. It takes a while for him to realize that he can feel Ignis purring in his sleep. Not snoring, he decides, setting his hand at the center of Ignis' chest; definitely purring and utterly charming. The vibrations make the race of his heart and his thoughts slow; his breathing deepens. His last clear thought before he slides into dreams is that he fits with Ignis the way similarities and differences lock puzzle pieces together; he feels like he's found a place he belongs, here, with Ignis in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic uses the meta about Prompto's barcode found in this excellent post: http://yourscientistfriend.tumblr.com/post/162257846100/on-promptos-bar-codes


End file.
